One for Sorrow
by StarKid McFly
Summary: "One for sorrow, two for joy. Three for a girl, four for a boy." Drabbles based around the nursery rhyme, focused on the Black family.
1. Sorrow

**For any of you who know me, you know of my obsession with Sirius Black. Well, the Marauders, but Sirius Black in particular.**

**My obsession does spread a little; I am very interested in the Black family – it's just so confusing.**

**So I decided to post these drabbles to the Magpie Poem. **

**I guess this particular one isn't so much sorrow more than pondering remorse, but you know. :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

'_One for sorrow,_

_Two for joy,_

_Three for a girl,_

_Four for a boy,_

_Five for silver,_

_Six for gold,_

_Seven for a secret never to be told,_

_Eight for a wish,_

_Nine for a kiss,_

_Ten for a bird you must not miss.'_

**_One for Sorrow_**

Sometimes, she found herself looking up at the sky, her eyes automatically drawn to the stars she had been taught to recognise. She would let her eyes stray over Orion's Belt, and follow it down, her eyes falling on Sirius.

Or perhaps 'falling' on the Dog Star wasn't the right word. 'Searching' would have been be more appropriate.

There was something that assuaged her, staring at the twinkling of the brightest star in the sky against the dark night as she sat in the window seat of the Manor house.

And yet, she couldn't help the feeling of morose staring at it.

Had she made the right choice?

She was a married woman, swept from her old home to a beautiful, slightly gothic Manor in the middle of nowhere. It was filled with ornate objects; chandeliers the size of tables draped in jewels larger than her fist, detailed portraits of beautiful blond wizards and witches from Lucius's family, even a pearlescent ghost whose face was always moulded in a weary smile. She had row upon row of silk dresses and fine shoes, and she was rolling in galleons. Each day she would fuss around with her hair, rolling it up or plaiting it intricately. Each day she would select splendid attire, dress her hands in rich rings. Each day she would go out into the wizarding world, boasting magnificence and grandeur.

And yet she wasn't happy.

She didn't talk to Lucius all of the time; recently they hadn't talked much at all. Perhaps it was their lack of conversation that was causing her such doubt at the moment.

But Narcissa couldn't help but feel that she had been swept from her feet and stranded in a faraway place, an abstract to her reality. She had allowed herself to be taken. And now she wasn't sure if she should have.

She closed her eyes, resting her head against the cool glass, the Dog Star imprinted on the inside of her eyelids.

She recalled a conversation in the past where Sirius had asked her why.

_"Why do you do it? Why do you try to live up to our family name?"_

She remembered the look on his face, the way he seemed to have judged her when she explained her reasons. She remembered the way he had looked at her with a mixed sense of sadness and a hint of distaste. It was clear what he thought. She was 'too far gone'.

And she had been; her head had been filled with the thoughts and ideas of her parents since her early days. Her life had been moulded around their opinions, their views.

It had seemed unreasonable to rebel. She was the girl with _everything_- good looks, wealth, status... they were the nobility of wizards, an infamous family. She didn't agree with _everything_ they thought, but every family was the same, wasn't it? She had thought it would be foolish to leave them.

And only now she had begun to regret it.

She looked up at the Dog Star, burning brightly in the sky, and wondered, briefly, what her life would be if she had followed her cousin's rebelliousness.

Because he was with friends – not the acquaintances that the family had deemed respectable, true friends who loved him – living his life to the full.

Because her sister had a child, and a husband who loved her for whom _she_ was, not her blood-type.

Because Narcissa had never felt as cold inside as she felt now in the midst of war.

She had found herself so wrapped up in a world of merciless killing, so involved in the heart of it all...

She opened her eyes, forehead pressed against the glass of the window seat. Night had faded into day.  
>A Dark Mark shone in the distance.<p>

A magpie tapped against the glass.


	2. Joy

**I feel really naughty updating this one when it's been over a month since the last chapter of I Solemnly Swear surfaced. If you're just reading this, then... shh... Don't tell anybody ;)**

_Two for Joy_

"It's raining."

"It's not raining."

"No, it is," Andromeda insists as she stops still in the middle of the path. She turns to look at her boyfriend. "It's raining on my washing! I knew we shouldn't have gone out."

Ted sighs and takes Andromeda by the arm. "I want to show you something, and I can't do that back at home. Is that okay?"

Andromeda sighs and rolls her eyes, but she agrees anyway.

He pulls her up the hill behind him, grinning as he goes. It _is_ raining; small flecks hit his face every now and again.

The hill rises higher and higher, and he can hear Andromeda mutter something about her washing, but he knows she doesn't really care. It's an anxiety kill, her washing, and it only really matters whenever she's inside the house. Admittedly, they are becoming less protected from the wind, and when they reach the hill's summit, they appear to be standing in the midst of a gale, Andromeda's deep brunette curls swept wildly to one side with no show of returning, Ted's own blond hair frizzing up under the now pounding rain. He looks at her, and opens his mouth, but his words are immediately lost to the wind.

They're becoming slowly more saturated, clothes drenched and sopping and the wind freezing them, raising icy goosebumps on their arms as Ted attempts to speak twice more.

But the wind is furious and roars over the top of him, drowning him out spectacularly.

He sighs and shakes his head, grabbing Andromeda's arm and hauling her behind him. They slide down the hill a little where the ground has dissolved into sludgy mud, until Ted spots the place he's looking for.

There's a little dip in the side of the hill; nothing special, but where the castle which had used to tower here had crumbled away and part of the turret remained intact. It provides a bit of shelter if you're looking for it, Ted knows from experience. He used to play here when he was a child.

He pulls her into it, setting her down on a small jutting ledge, assuming she won't mind the moss. It's shelter; who cares about a few little plants?

Andromeda's nose wrinkles as the moss squidges beneath her, wet on her back and legs, but she says nothing about it. "What do you want to show me, Ted?" she asks, shivering from the damp of her clothes.

"Um," Ted says, and he fumbles around in his pockets, though has trouble. His hands are so cold and frozen that he can't quite clasp around the object he is trying to retrieve. "Well... uh... crap..."

Andromeda laughs as he manages to push the item from the denim, and it lands in the grass. He falls to his knees and scrambles around to pick it up, and finds it.

"Well," he says, and he opens the box to reveal a ring, "I wanted to show you this, Dromeda."

Andromeda looks at the ring with wide eyes. "You're asking me to marry you?"

"Yeah," Ted says, and laughs. "It just didn't work out as well as I'd hoped."

Andromeda takes in the mud-splattered, wind-swept young man in front of her and grins. "No, I can see that," she says.

"And?"

"Ted Tonks," she says with an enormous grin, "that was the single most unromantic proposal there has ever been on planet Earth."

Ted laughs nervously. "Maybe I should try again on another day. When we're dry, and warm, and..."

But he is cut off as Andromeda forces her lips upon his. He is caught by surprise, and then kisses her back.

She breaks the kiss off and whispers, "Yeah, alright then," into his ear. "I will marry you."

He grins widely.

He's elated.


	3. Girl

**Dedicated to the ever lovely Candy (Scandalacious Intentions), who leaves such wonderful reviews and makes me smile so much. Thank you, Candy :D**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimers make me feel so very sad, because you have to recognise that actually you don't own anything. Which is basically what I just did. Yeah, I don't own anything. Laugh at me, fanfiction, laugh at me.**

_Three for a Girl_

Cygnus Black wanted nothing more than a son to hold and call his own; a son that would inevitably inherit all of his status, wealth and carry on the honour of the Black family for years to come. He would be strong and noble, and he would hold the Black nobility.

But Druella had failed him.

She had fallen pregnant; it had been planned, of course. There was no way an accident could happen with a relationship like theirs. Their marriage was formed upon business opportunity, not actual emotion. For one, Druella's jaw had always been too square for his liking, and he despised the way her hair hung limp. There was no attraction towards her from his being, and so there was no way she could be impregnated without a plan.

She had always been a disappointment.

He hadn't bothered to accompany his wife to St Mungo's; to him, work was more important. After all, even if a son was born unto them, he wouldn't be important until he was seventeen and of age. It was up to Cygnus to intimidate others, remind them of his power and notoriety. When the Healer, a plump looking woman who _oozed_ mudblood, appeared in the fireplace and congratulated him on the birth of his baby girl, he merely returned to his paper, irritated.

He didn't go to see the little girl.

Of course, Druella, afraid of his anger, insisted that they could try again, that they might be more successful this time, and he had a little faith in his heart. Perhaps he could still produce a suitable heir.

And then the mudblood witch had appeared to him exclaiming 'joyous' news of another girl, and he had spat in the fire grate to show his distaste.

This was not what Cygnus had wanted.

He hadn't wanted to have two girls cluttering his house, his wife inexplicably depressed, leaving him to arrange to find suitable caring house elves to look after the two things in the house. He hadn't wanted that at all.

Some years later, Druella fell pregnant again. It appeared strange to the public; she hadn't really been seen since the birth of the couple's last child – it was like the sighting of a rare animal nowadays. But suddenly she was attending all of the prestigious meetings of the pureblood families with her hair rolled up behind her head and her body shrouded in fine clothes.

"We're hoping for a boy," she would tell people, nose held high in the air. "A boy is what we need."

But Cygnus had given up hope for having a boy. Two girls down the line; if they kept trying they would appear to be commoners. Wizarding families with any decency kept their brood to a minimum, no questions asked. It seemed very unlikely that they would have a male heir now.

Cygnus was in the Minister's office whilst his wife was in labour, expressing his views upon blood status, phrased as 'concerns about hereditary assumption'. They had been talking for hours, and Cygnus had made many threatening hand-slams upon the desk, causing the ink bottles to shudder and quake, the Minister reacting by widening his eyes a little, and the quick quotes quill behind his head stopping as if to glance up at the standing man every time one of the smacks was administered.

Once he returned to his own office, he found that the over-cheerful mudblood Healer was already seated in one of the chairs, smacking her hands against her cheeks in boredom. As soon as she saw Cygnus, she hopped to her feet and smiled resplendently.

"Congratulations, Mr Black!" she said in her bubbly voice. "You have another daughter!"

Three daughters.

Three girls.

No sons.

Cygnus nodded curtly. "Goodbye."

The Healer looked at him for a moment, saying nothing.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" Cygnus asked pointedly.

The Healer stared back into Cygnus's menacing eyes. "Do you want to see your daughter?" she asked him. The brightness from her tone had vanished somewhat. "Or do you plan to just let your wife get on with it as you did with the previous two?"

"How dare..." Cygnus began, his voice like thunder, but he noticed the sturdiness of this witch and faltered. She was really challenging him. "Which ward?" he asked tediously.

The healer smiled in triumph. "If you'd like to follow me, sir..."

* * *

><p>Druella was seated upon plaid window-seat cushions when Cygnus arrived, her hair pristine and her face expressionless. To anyone else, she could have been merely passing to visit an ailed relative.<p>

Her eyes met his, and she smoothed out her skirt before standing up.

"Would you like to see her?" she asked quietly, timid, almost. Cygnus nodded awkwardly.

Druella moved towards a cradle that stood, shielded from view by a dark green bed that marked the Black's private room in St Mungo's, and reached her hands into the folds of blankets.

She withdrew a baby; a small baby at that, but still a child.

Cygnus nodded. "Very nice."  
>"Are you going to come and see her properly, Cygnus?" Druella snapped, moving towards her husband with the outstretched baby. "Hold her."<p>

He did as she demanded, slipping his hands awkwardly underneath the baby's head and back to support her. He pulled back a fold of the material and looked.

At first, he thought she was bald. Most of the Blacks were born with a jetty crop of hair. But this one had fair wisps, pale blonde.

And for the first time, Cygnus was struck by what it meant to be a father.

**You may have noticed I reuploaded this chappie. That's cos Rainbow Dust started laughing, because I forgot to edit it :P**


	4. Boy

**This took AGES to write, because the girls were a lot easier and I was out of steam. I was drafting the other chapters today and realised I'd better publish this one. This one's really crap, but ya know!**

_Four for a Boy_

There were four boys in Sirius's family.

Not Regulus or Orion or Cygnus, _they_ weren't boys. They were hypocrites. They talked about 'vile things' like 'mudbloods' and 'blood traitors' like _they_ were superior, when really their blood was about as pure as a puddle.

It didn't make sense to Sirius's mind; how could someone think they were better than another because they were a wizard? If anything, shouldn't muggleborns be the proudest? After all, they could be considered pure muggle _or_ pure wizard! It was a no-brainer, really.

It pained him to admit that once upon a time, though, he had agreed with _their_ views. If it hadn't been for Andromeda, who took time trying to explain the importance of Muggles to he and Narcissa when they were young, if it hadn't been for Bellatrix on the brink of insanity with her prejudicial views, if it hadn't been for the tainted minds of Regulus and Narcissa... he'd still agree with them now.

But there were others too. There was James, Remus and Peter, a blood traitor, a pureblood and a halfblood. But there wasn't a difference in status between them. None of them treated the other as inferior; they had the same copious amounts of respect for one and all. It didn't matter exactly how much wizarding heritage they were descended from!

When they had found out that Remus was a werewolf, that should have mattered. It should have, but it didn't. For some reason, Sirius couldn't care less, because it didn't matter. Remus was Remus, and it didn't affect his personality about whose blood ran through his veins or that he became a wolf once a month. After all, James got ridiculously stressy when he was awoken too early – what was the difference between that and lycanthropy really?

As he got older, as he matured, he began to see that blood had even less significance than he had previously thought. When he was turfed out on his ear, he realised that he had no connection to the Blacks other than his surname. His 'Mother' and 'Father' hadn't even reared them, they had paid others to bring them up. Other than biological reasons, they were not his parents.

It had hit him hard; blood did not matter at all, other than for carrying oxygen around. His blood relatives were not his _family_. He didn't need them.

There were others that he needed, not blood relatives. He had three brothers, and he had never realised it; three boys he cared for more than anyone else in the world. The four of them would be together.

There were four boys in Sirius's family, and Regulus Black was not one of them.


	5. Silver

**So it's been a while, hey? Well, I can actually promise you that I do have the next chapter already written, so I'm quite proud of myself. I plan to update before the end of the week, but anyway, thank you for sticking with me. Have a cookie.**

_Five for Silver_

"Will you please not run in the house, boys?" Walburga snapped as her two sons whipped past her, Sirius shouting something incomprehensible. "Good grief. I almost lost my footing." She looked down to see if her dress had been tarnished in any way whatsoever. Satisfied that it hadn't, she pursed her lips and continued to direct the house elves in preparation.

"I don't know why you bother, Walburga," Druella drawled from the long couch she had arranged herself upon. "Sons are so much more hassle than daughters." She looked over to where her three girls sat and quirked her lips upwards, nodding, as if to prove the point.

Walburga had to bite her lip from making any snide remark. "And we want the best cutlery out, the polished silver, but do make sure you don't steal any, won't you? Mr Black doesn't take too kindly to theft."

"Yes, Mistress," one of them squeaked, before scuttling off to go and fetch the designated tableware.

"It's all very tiring, this organising lark," Druella commented, checking her reflection in an ornate mirror perched on the cabinet nearest to her. "Exhausting work."

"Especially for you, Druella, with the arduous amount of effort you're putting into it," Walburga replied mordantly. Druella's smile was silky.

The house elves returned with a box of silverware and Walburga watched with piercing eyes as they set the table, Druella rolling her eyes in the background.

"Why are you so concerned that they'll steal the wretched spoons?" she asked with a heavy sigh. "It's not like they're going to run away with it and sell it for copious amounts of gold to make a mockery of you. For your information, you don't _need _them to make a mockery of yourself anyway."

Oh, Walburga was going to turf her out by her ear if she did not hold her tongue.

"I am well aware that they are sworn to obey me, Druella, _dear_," she replied acidly as the boys swooped past her again. "_Children_! Do behave!" she snapped, throwing a silver cloth after Regulus's retreating back. Druella raised her finely pencilled eyebrows.

"I see the discipline in this house has become rather lax."

"Oh, _do_ be quiet, Druella, the sound of your voice is making me positively ill." Walburga turned to glare at the house elves once more, Druella making her thoughts perfectly clear by the numerous loud exhalations of breath. "Boys, I am _not _going to ask you again! Will you _please_ refrain from running around everywhere? You are _wizards_, not animals! Go to your rooms at once!" she snapped, when Regulus slipped and collided with one of the elves, the levitating spell breaking.

Everything happened at once. Regulus landed on his back, skidding along the oaken floor as the ancient prized cutlery rained down around him in a shower of silver, the elf responsible for dropping it slipping into Sirius, who was cackling, obviously finding all of this very entertaining.

However, his mother clearly didn't.

Shaking, she swept her hand down and snatched up a spoon, inspecting it and snarling slightly when it became apparent that the handle had been bent to an awkward degree. Druella's continuing smirk wasn't doing much to calm her nerves.

"You," Walburga said in a dangerously quiet voice, and Sirius shoved a sleeve in his mouth to stop himself from laughing, "You despicable wretches. Kreacher, take them to their rooms, where they will stay until I see fit. Do not feed the little brats. Your father can deal with you later."

That stopped Sirius from laughing. "Mother..."

"Do _not_ 'Mother' me," she warned, and he quietened hastily. "Go. Get out of my sight. Now."

As Kreacher removed the boys from her vicinity, Walburga shot Druella a venomous look as her sister-in-law raised her eyebrows. "Oh, I suppose you have something to say, don't you?"

"Not a word, Walburga, darling," Druella replied, her lips quirking upwards. "I wouldn't know what to comment, what with not having experienced such trouble. I mean to say, if Bellatrix ruined my golden Slytherin goblet set..."

"Oh, gold? How delightful."

"It is rather quaint."

"I can imagine," Walburga muttered, before turning back to look at the scattered silverware. There was a lot of work to do. There would always be a lot of work to do.

**So I'm not so proud of this one but hey :) SORRY**


	6. Gold

**I promised I would update so here it is!**

**I love Bella and Sirius, and I love their relationship, how confusing it is. So I decided to write this, exploring their hatred for each other. **

_Six for Gold_

Sometimes she wondered exactly what it was that she hated so much about her cousin.

There was of course, the fact that before he had been born, she had been the one the family had admired. They said her name with pride – "Such a _strong_ little girl, our Bellatrix is, such a_ pretty_ little girl," they would croon to their high-society pureblood friends. And Bellatrix liked this, because she _was_ strong, and she _was_ a pretty little thing on the eye. She was the daughter the Black family respected the most – though they thought Andromeda's intelligence was satisfactory and little Narcissa was like a cherub with her blonde curls and wide blue eyes – but Druella and Cygnus always looked upon Bellatrix with the most pleasure as she was the strongest and the most superior of the three children, ready to take on the responsibility of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black should no male heir be born.

And then, when she was almost nine years old and had been assured that now, what with Walburga and Orion aging rapidly, that one day she would manage the household, Walburga fell pregnant.

There was a stupid story behind it as well, as far as Bellatrix knew. Walburga had been sitting on her bed and staring at the Dog Star with admiration of its glow, and had wished that one day she would have a child as strong as that. Bellatrix despised the tale; it sounded far too much like Muggle fantasy for her appreciation. Walburga had given birth nine months later to a son named Sirius, who was born with a full head of hair and whose eyes had turned to stone grey by the time Bellatrix had met him, the same colour, she had added in silence to herself, as must be his heart after he stole her inheritance.

And suddenly the family revolved around him – they wanted _him_ to take the most curses with an immovable face to prove _his_ strength instead of her, they wanted _him_ to have the bigger bedroom although he was only four and she was thirteen ("an adolescent Mother, an _adolescent_"), they wanted _him_ to start thinking about what important decisions to make in the future.

But it was only Bellatrix who could see that he was a nasty little blood traitor who spent his days out with the Muggle filth, coming home with grazed knees and mud splattered up the legs of tatty Muggle jeans.

Bellatrix had dobbed him in once or twice, only to have him get her back by telling them of all the nasty tricks she had been playing on Narcissa as of late.

It wasn't until he was eight and enquiring why he couldn't go to Muggle primary school with his 'friends' that their family began to realise something was very different when it came to Sirius, and by then it was too late to change the fact that he had seized what should have been Bellatrix's inheritance.

But perhaps it wasn't the family issue that she hated most. After all, he had been disowned, thrown from the house, and she still found him sickening.

It wasn't his careless looks either; she was gifted with the beauty that befell most members of the Black family: the grey eyes, the distinguishing cheek bones that set each face with lackadaisical radiance, the coils of glossy raven hair. They were both gifted with grace, although Bellatrix knew how to flaunt hers, to use it to her advantage so that she could twist the minds of fickle men into the way she wished, to arrange opportunities without having to lift a finger.

It was, after all, she who had taught him to make the most of his endowment of elegance; to pull his hair back from his face at parties to reveal that bone structure, to stand up straight rather than slouch ("Need I tie a _plank_ to your back in order to make you stand correctly, child?"), to flash a smile on a rare occasion in order to gain discipline attention from those who wanted to please. But did he listen? Was it _her_ fault that the boy was as stubborn as a hippogriff?

Nor was it his stubbornness that drove her insane, though it did annoy her, slightly. It was definitely a trait of the Black family, undying ignorance that could not be quashed. Walburga and Orion had been so proud when he had first displayed this trait. "A true Black," they would crow to everyone with the smug smirk of a child who had been told they could buy as much sugar as they desired from Honeydukes.

But it only seemed to be plain to Bellatrix that he was _not_ a Black, and that this so called family trait would be used to hinder his parents and relatives. Bella could see that this child was abnormal; he had everything and yet he seemed to question it. She remembered being insanely jealous when, for his fifth birthday, he had been given a figurine made from the finest ebony, gold woven in intricate patterns to highlight finite scales, emeralds glinting as two small curved eyes. The snake _moved_ in such a lifelike animation, and shimmered in the light. It was stunning in her mind, and she longed to possess it. And yet, Sirius hadn't liked it. She had lifted him up to see it ("Pick him up, Bellatrix, I am too weary to tire my hand with him," Walburga had excused herself) and he had recoiled. Frankly, she couldn't understand _why_; if she had been presented with such an exquisite gift she would have taken pride in its ownership.

"I don't like it," Sirius insisted as he hid his face in her chest. "Bella have?" he asked her. Bella was most inclined to say yes; was he having a laugh? Of course she'd take it!

But Walburga spoke first. "Don't be silly, boy. Your father has bought you the most splendid gift, and you must keep it."

He questioned parties; she could recall them having an argument over why he should wear dress robes when he didn't even _want_ to "play dress up as the high society fuckwit" with her that had resulted in him being placed under the Imperius curse by his father for the first time and Bella being centre of attention for the evening.

So perhaps that wasn't so bad, his indecorous resolution to rebel against the family at all cost gained her some respect from other dignitaries.

That didn't mean she liked him.

**I'm not sure if you can see the bit that's gold, I think I was intending the statuette, but here you are. Maybe you could English lit read into it? :D **

**Anyway, thanks for bearing with me! Hopefully I'll have another chapter up soon. I went to the Warner Bros studios last week and I'm feeling inspired, they were amazing, and I just rewatched Deathly Hallows Part II, which I still have post-depression for at the moment, but this sudden urge to write. Whether or not I will remains to be seen! :P**

**Thank you guys!**

**Rocky**

**xx**


	7. Secret

**It's been a while... ouch. Sorry! **

_Seven for a Secret Never to Be Told_

"Go on Black, how do you spell 'illiterate'?"

"Nah, that's too hard for him, Nott. How about just plain 'dumb'?"

It was taking every ounce of will power that Regulus possessed to remain composed, and still it seemed to not be enough, despite the struggle he was having to keep his hand from shaking as he scrawled words across the page, concentrating on staring at the words rather than actually taking into account what he was writing at all.

"What was it the old boy said again?" Macnair continued, sneering as Nott and Crabbe sniggered, Regulus's quill juddering to a halt. "Oh yeah, something about Black's spelling being a danger to society. What was it you completely decimated, Black? Something easy. Hey, how do you spell 'easy', Black? Or 'cat'. How do you spell anything at all?"

The nib of Regulus's quill snapped as he pushed it violently into the table, but before he could reach Macnair, another had got there first.

"What exactly is going on?" Narcissa asked in her cool, silky voice, and Regulus's three tormentors immediately stopped, shaking their heads. His cousin raised a slender eyebrow, before glancing back at her group of seventh year friends. "No, come on," she said, the placid tone of her voice a thin ice cover that Macnair was just a little too heavy to tread safely upon. "Isabelle and I heard laughter, didn't we?"

The beautiful Isabelle nodded, her lazy gaze passing over the three boys, before she added in her thick husky accent, "We were most eentrigued to 'ear what eet was zat was so amusing. Rosier and Avery love good 'umour, do you not, boys?" She nodded back at two of the more menacing looking boys, and Macnair visibly recoiled.

"So, gentlemen," Narcissa said delicately, the rest of her expression hardening to match that of her glacier blue eyes, "is there something humorous other than your good selves? You are a bit of a joke."

"No," Macnair said, and Narcissa nodded.

"I thought not," she replied. "Go now. And if you ever think of messing with my family again," she added in an undertone as she stepped forwards, Macnair turning faintly greenish, "I can guarantee that Avery will find something very funny to do with you. Understood?"

It obviously was as the three boys scattered almost immediately. Narcissa, looking somewhat satisfied, turned to her group of friends, all of whom looked somewhat bored, and nodded, an action that clearly seemed to give a command of some sort as they all began to file off in different directions.

"I don't understand how boys as unintelligent as that ever get into these associations," Narcissa sighed, her characteristic bored drawl back as she draped herself on one of the arms of a black sofa opposite her cousin. "They rather bring down the standard."

Regulus said nothing. He had a slight fear that if he opened his mouth or even moved in any way he would start crying, and how would that look? He was thirteen years old and about to start crying because some boys were being mean about his spelling. Narcissa probed him quickly with her chilly gaze, before she shrugged elegantly, her blonde hair spilling forwards from the glamorous knot she had twisted it into.

"As a matter of interest, what were the buffoons on about?" she asked delicately, and Regulus shifted uncomfortably under her watch, before swallowing.

"It was a Defence lesson," he said, and Narcissa continued to survey him with the same indifferent look. "We got an essay back and mine was... well Professor Rowle was all over it to point out how many mistakes there were."

"Oh?" Her voice was still silky, but there was a perceptible change to it, a slight raise in the intonation that made him glance up at her, meeting her blue eyes. "And?"

"And, well, I don't know, I just... I just have trouble reading sometimes, and... and spelling is hard. Mother and Father don't know, Sirius used to correct it and the tutors liked me more so they'd overlook it but... but I'm thirteen and I thought that y'know, I should be able to spell by now..." His cheeks flared up, and he fought to keep his lip from trembling.

It took Narcissa a moment to answer. "And what exactly did Rowle say?"

Regulus shook his head, wiping his face furiously. "He just... he drew attention to it, and he kept asking me how to spell things, and I couldn't and... and he started making out that I was stupid when... when I always used to get Os and he gave me a T because of my spelling and... and now Macnair and Rosier are being... it just... I don't understand why I can't, but the words, they swim, and if Mother and Father knew, they'd just say I was lazy, and he's threatening to write to them..." It was all gushing out of Regulus's mouth now. "It's been going on all year. Everything I write, he marks down and he makes stupid comments and I just don't know what to do. If Mother and Father ever found out, they'd just think I was stupid, and I'm not, I just..."

Narcissa's face was almost the same, but there was something different in her eyes, something that looked as if it was bordering on anger. Finally, she breathed in deeply. "Is that so?" she said lightly, and when Regulus nodded, she outstretched her hand, examining her fingernails. "Do you know, I've heard tales about Rowle. Apparently, he is of the promiscuous sort. I'm sure that the governors would be very interested to hear about his misadventures. Speaking of which, were you aware that Papa recently became installed on the list of governors, Regulus? I'm sure he is very concerned over the welfare of the students."

Regulus frowned, looking up. "Promiscuity?"

Narcissa shrugged, pushing herself to her feet. "Well, perhaps that's an exaggeration, but I'm sure we could overlook it. After all, we can't break a trend and have a Defence teacher for more than one year running. That would rather disturb the running of the place, no?"

There was something wrong about this, but Regulus was too surprised to worry. "You'd do that for me?"

She turned to look at him and sighed. "Perhaps. Though don't mention this to anyone. I'd rather not people think I like you."

**Okay, sorry, it's been a while, hasn't it? And I didn't want Narcissa to seem completely nice because we know that she must have a nasty streak, but I do like her, so I felt really mean writing her like this.**

**Hope you are all okay!**


	8. Wish

**A speedy update! Or well, speedy for me. This turned out rather more depressing and nowhere near as good as I had originally intended it to be but hey-ho! I hope you like it AND SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING I LOVE YOU ALL.**

_Eight for a Wish_

Andromeda's hands shake as she clenches the newspaper in her hands, unable to read the words she has scanned a thousand times as her husband sets down another cup of tea in front of her, a deep sorrow in the glance he gives her. Their daughter sits oblivious on the carpet, engrossed in a duel between the dolls she was holding, screeching made up spells as she aimed their arms at one another. At least Nymphadora is spared from the shock and the pain that is coursing through her mother at the moment.

"Dromeda," Ted begins cautiously, and Andromeda's eyes snap up to her husband. "Drom, please drink something..."

"It's not true," she says suddenly, and he bites his lip. "It can't be true. You've met that boy, Ted, you've seen he's different. He's not in line with my sisters, he's not bad, he'd never betray his friends." Her grip on the paper tightens, the front page tearing slightly, where a young man stares blankly, yelling silently at them. "He wouldn't," she repeats, shaking her head firmly. "He wouldn't. It's not true."

"Well, you know," Ted begins cautiously, but Andromeda doesn't let him speak.

"I know he's done stupid things in the past, I know he has, but he would never do something like this, he would never betray James, he would... it's not true," she insists, and Ted nods.

"But then, Drom, he... he's had a tough life and... something might have snapped-"

"He didn't do it!" she snaps, the paper tearing in half as her voice climbs an octave, Ted knocking the cup in surprise. "Oh," she mutters, the tears beginning to fall, and Ted stands up to envelop her in his arms. "He wouldn't do it," she whispers into his shirt as he smoothes her hair, nodding.

"I know," he says softly, kissing her head. "I know."

"Mummy, look!" The high-pitched voice of Nymphadora cuts through the silence, sharp and clear, and both her parents look up to see her grinning widely, her appearance mimicking that of the doll she holds, waist-length bubblegum pink hair flowing from her head. Her grin fades when she sees Andromeda's face. "Mummy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, sweetheart," she says, sniffing and forcing a smile as she wipes her eyes hastily. "You look lovely. How about Daddy takes you out for some ice cream?"

Ted looks at her, and she shrugs, a look of pleading in her eyes. "I have to see him. I need to see him."

He merely nods. "Come on, Dora, I want a Ninety-Nine."

Dora skips to his side and leads him out, just as Andromeda feels the floor fall away and her knees buckle.

* * *

><p>There is to be no trial, it is made clear to her. The only reason she is being allowed to see him is because Dumbledore has put in a word for her. She doesn't even know why, it isn't as if she deserves it. Perhaps he knows of her cousin's innocence. Because Andromeda knows he is innocent, even if everyone else refuses to see it.<p>

The holding cells at the Ministry make her stomach drop, the nearby Dementors making her feel chilly and empty. _He won't survive this_, she thinks as she breathes in shakily, following the black cloaked creature to the end of the corridor.

Despite herself, she flinches when she sees him. He already looks so pale and drawn and _hollow_, staring at the floor, eyes unseeing.

"Sirius," she says, trying hard to steady her voice. He doesn't look up.

"Come to pity me?"

She winces at the hoarse, harsh tone of his voice. "Do you wish me to pity you?"

"I wish you to do as you will."

Andromeda bites her lip, trying to shake the sickening fear the Dementor is instilling in her. "Could you leave? I'm perfectly capable on my own," she says coldly to the creature. It doesn't move. She turns instead back to her cousin. "I know you didn't do it."

"I wish I had," he croaks, laughing a hollow laugh that chills Andromeda further. "I wish I fucking had. I wish I had, and I wish he'd killed me too, because what the fuck have I got left for me now? No James. No Lily. No Harry, no Remus, no family, no hope..."

"You have me," she says timidly, and he laughs even more.

"I have nothing now," he replies, finally looking up at her, and she takes a step back as if his gaze has burnt her. "I have nothing, and it's all my fault. And you know what? I don't care anymore. I wish I was dead."

"You don't..."

"Why are you here, Andromeda?" he asks harshly, abruptly.

"Because you're my cousin and I know you wouldn't do something like this," she says, her voice shaking, and he scoffs.  
>"You don't know me at all," he replies, and she feels her stomach sink. "You don't know what I would or wouldn't do. I've betrayed my friends, and now I wish I was dead. And I wish you'd leave me the fuck alone."<p>

"You..." Andromeda's breath hitches, as she feels a small amount of anger mingle with the deep-set fear. "I thought you were different, Sirius Black," she says instead, folding her arms. "I thought you weren't like the others."

His eyes bore into hers. "I guess you were wrong. Goodbye, Andromeda."

She spins around for fear of crying, and begins to speed off down the hall, breaking into a run as soon as he is out of vision, trying not to listen as she hears him yell his apology.

"_I'm so sorry, James, I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry."_


	9. Kiss

**I'm on fire here!**

**I thought maybe a lighter chapter was in order, but I'm not really sure if it fits the recurrent mood. But hey! I hope you enjoy it.**

**Rocky**

**x**

_Nine for a Kiss_

"Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Sirius looked up at the doorway, smiling slightly as his cousin entered. "Only if it's for a moment. I'm very busy you know."

"I'm sure being a fugitive offers a packed schedule," Tonks replied, moving to sit down and instead missing the arm of the chair and tripping forwards, much to Sirius's amusement.

"No wonder you aren't on the Family Tree, you don't have the grace."

"Oh shut up," she snapped, and he laughed.

"Anyway, Darcey Bussell, what can I do for you?"

"Who the hell is Darcey Bussell?"

"Remus is trying to culture me," Sirius replied with a shrug. "It's worse than Azkaban."

Tonks grinned, before shifting awkwardly. "It's about Remus, actually."

"Yeah?"

"He... don't look at me like that!"

"Like what?" Sirius replied innocently, and Tonks narrowed her eyes until he laughed. "Oh, come on. You don't have to be so bloody cautious. I know you like him."

"Is it that obvious?" Tonks asked, flushing, and Sirius scoffed in answer.

"The temperature of the room rises from all the blushing and giggling, and that's just him."

She frowned. "Are you making fun of me? He doesn't like me."

"Yes he does."

"Has he ever told you?"

"He doesn't need to."

"So you don't know that he does," she snapped, and he rolled his eyes.

"Nah, I obviously don't. The twenty odd years I've known him for count for nothing because he hasn't told me outright that he likes you like the seven year old girls we are." He sighed and rolled his eyes at her. "Listen, I know him better than I know you, and as far as I'm concerned, the pair of you should stop being so pathetic and start getting it on. I hear he's a great shag."

"You're so immature," Tonks replied, though she felt her stomach flutter at the prospect that Remus Lupin might be more than fond of her. "Do you think I should do something? I could write him a card."

"How old are you, twelve? You might as well buy him a pack of Lovehearts and spell out his name."

"He does like sweets," Tonks muttered thoughtfully, and Sirius shook his head vehemently, stretching his long legs out onto the table and crossing them.

"Listen, what you need to do is just be brave, okay? I know him. He has these ridiculous self-esteem issues, he's not going to start anything. You may have inherited the Tonks clumsiness-" Tonks grumbled something and he grinned "-but you are also - and Merlin help me for saying this – a Black, which means that if you want something to happen, you will bloody well make it, okay?"

She nodded, looking at him intently as she waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she spoke instead. "So what you're saying is-"

"That Remus Lupin in his old age has become totally useless and namby pamby and will not listen to me when I tell him what I've told you and the only way he will accept the truth is if you force him to."

"And how do I do that?"

"Oh, I don't know, Dora, what happens in every romantic novel you have ever read?"

"I don't read romantic novels."

"I can tell." He sighed heavily, standing up. "I'm going to get a drink. Yell for me when you've stopped being prepubescent."

* * *

><p>"The funny thing is that-"<p>

"Do you like me?" Tonks blurted abruptly, Remus pausing his tale and looking at her, half a smile remaining on his face. "I mean... I just... we always go out for drinks, and you... you seem like you're flirting but you're never clear and I'm just so confused."

Remus's smile faded. "Of course," he said quietly, averting her gaze reaching for his jacket. "I'm sorry. I never intended to make you feel uncomfortable. I understand completely if you don't want to talk to me again..."

"Why would I want that?" Tonks said quickly, and Remus chanced a glance up at her again. "I'm not saying I don't want you to, in fact, I would want nothing more. I just want to be clear where we're at, Remus, I just want to know whether something is happening."

"Is something happening?"

"I don't _know_ because you're so bloody cryptic!" she snapped. "I _want _something to happen, but you, you're so confusing and it's unfair because-!" Her sentence ended in a squeak of surprise as she felt lips cover her own, hands pulling her towards him.

If she'd have had room to think, Tonks would have probably noted how good at kissing Remus was in that he could somehow be both tender and still get her heart racing simultaneously. But she didn't have room to think, and all she could do was close her eyes and fight the urge to squeal in delight.

A loud clapping noise erupted from behind them, and they broke apart, Tonks spinning around dizzily and tripping back into Remus, heart speeding up impossibly more as he steadied her. Sirius stood in the doorway, grinning widely.

"About bloody time," he said, staring between the pair of them with great amusement. "I thought I'd have to push your faces together."

"You knew?" Remus asked, and Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Of course I knew, I know everything," he replied, pushing himself up from where he leant. "Anyway, I guess this means that I can officially welcome you to the family now."

Tonks flushed further. "You're very hasty, Sirius, I mean..."

"Oh, shut up, Nymphadora," Sirius interrupted as he walked towards them, clapping Remus on the back. "Not that you're not already part of the family, Moons. I'm just glad we can make it official. Otherwise it's a little bit creepy. I'm pretty sure Hermione's convinced we're having some sort of secret love affair."

"I thought we were trying to keep that on a low," Remus whispered, and Sirius laughed.

"Anyway, I'll leave you two lovebirds to it."

"Don't fall and break your neck skipping away, Padfoot," Remus called after him, and Sirius laughed again, sending him a thumbs up. "Honestly, he never changes. He's still fifteen inside, I'm sure."

Tonks nodded. "Fancy him getting so worked up about a kiss," she said, shaking her head in a flustered fashion.

"I know," Remus agreed, cupping her chin, and Tonks grinned. "I'd have waited for at least two."


End file.
